Bedroom Etiquette (No, not that kind)

Andrew has to go to work today. He doesn't hate his job, but I'll bet he hates it today. I don't know how he's going to fit into his pants with things all sore and still a little swollen. He's coming off of a Percocet from last night, so he'll have to wait until that wears off to drive in. And then try not to bust a stitch lifting something. Hope it all goes dandy.

So after the last few years of sleeping in the same bed with Andrew, I've come to the conclusion that the folks in the fifties were pretty smart to have twin beds. I think I could go for that, and maybe even a bedroom of my own. I could always make visits to Andrew's of course, but if I had my own bed and/or own room there are two benefits that seem irresistible right now. I'm sure you can all guess one of them...Andrew sometimes, okay, often has, a potent smell about him. He doesn't mean to pass deadly gas, but he doesn't seem to mind that it nearly kills me every night. (Shudder) But the more pressing issue is the one that's been going on with more and more frequency and severity over the last few weeks. Andrew has no idea how to sleep without twisting all the blankets and somehow pulling the sheets out of their securely tucked corners. So every night I wake up several times to straighten blankets. Most of the time I have to untwist them from some kind of spiral bedding knot just to get them to cover us both. I'm losing my mind and a lot of sleep. Maybe if I got a staple gun and secured the sheets to the mattress that way? I'm at a loss. So every morning I stand looking at the disaster of a bed and imagine having my own sanctuary where the blankets are always straight and sheets are always tucked where they should be. I've got to figure out how to train him not to do that, (whatever it is he's doing to create such a mess), before I have to resort to spousal abuse. Yes, twin beds sound just delightful.